Verification
by River Fox
Summary: Pre Series fic. While on a hunt for an unidentified creature, John Winchester is faced with a choice the hunt or his sons.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Verification

**Author: **Edith Curtis

**Author's Note:** After noting that I have twenty unfinished stories sitting on my hard drive from various genres and varying in age from 8mths to over five years. I figured I had better finish something and hopefully get the writing juices flowing.

This is just a short, unoriginal fic that was written while I was stuck in an office for two days. Hopefully it is entertaining enough.

This is technically a WIP as most of my stories start off in a script format before being converted into prose.

By the way, no Beta on this, so I take responsibility for all errors be they grammatical or logical

**Summary:** Pre Series fic (For the sake of argument, Dean 18 and Sam 14).

While on a hunt for an unidentified creature, John Winchester is faced with a choice; the hunt or his sons.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, CW has that honour…well okay I own some Canopic jar replicas, but I don't think that is particularly relevant here.

**Prologue**

John Winchester walked along the upper level of the abandoned mansion, listening out for the creature that he and his boys were hunting. He had been hesitant to go after the thing so soon, as they were still not a hundred percent sure of what they were actually hunting. His apprehension was only overridden by the fact that another person had gone missing in the vicinity of the mansion two days prior and history showed that this creature was getting close to disappearing again.

He and a few other hunters had been tracking this thing for a couple of years, though the history went back to at least the 18th century. People would start disappearing from surrounding counties for a few weeks, before the disappearances stopped; only to start up in another part of the continent months, sometimes years later.

The disappearances were only traceable to this thing, by the state of the people that returned. Majority of the people who disappeared had never returned. The few that did were usually out of their minds and incoherent. Over the years only five people had returned coherent, but what they spoke about was generally never recorded, it was merely said they were crazy.

John could hear the boys moving around on the floor below him. The boys had, had a run in with the thing an hour before and while he was hesitant to leave them alone, he had to trust in their abilities and focus on the hunt.

"Dad!" The shout ripped out from below and John instantly recognised it as being from his youngest.

John quickly moved to the banister which barricaded people on the upper level from the three storey drop to the slate floor below. He peered over hoping that maybe the boy would have had the foresight to gain visual communication given his enthusiasm to give his position away so blatantly.

"Sam, what's wrong?" With no answer forth coming he tried again, making the query more of an order, "Sam, report."

"He's not breathing." The answer from his youngest was barely audible, fear and worry present in the tone.

"Who's not breathing?" While the answer seemed perfectly obvious to him, John refused to believe the words that his youngest had just ushered.

"Dean. He just stopped…he collapsed and he's not breathing." The meek tone was gone and despite the obvious terror in the words, Sam replied confidently to the question.

As soon as he heard his son's name, John headed for the stairwell, which separated him from his family.

John was extra careful of the situation, weary of a trap, surveying the area cautiously as he announced his intention, "I'm coming down Sam. Does he have a pulse?"

There was a pause before Sam replied to his latest query, obviously checking the situation, "No…Dad?" The last was a question and plea in one.

"Start CPR." John commanded, thundering down the first flight of stairs and quickly moving to the second, all the while on the look out for the mysterious creature.

"Dad?"

"Just like I taught you Sam." John replied in the most encouraging tone he could, while racing down the stairs, hoping against hope, that maybe Sam was wrong

John's hopes were for naught when Sam started to shout out to his father again. "He's…there's blood, there's blood in his mouth and throat…I think it's coming from internally."

"Just keep trying." John shouted back, coming to the last of the stairs that separated him from the floor with his boys.

"I can't…every time I compress…" Sam sounded like he was reaching a near panic again, and John could only hope that the boy was continuing regardless.

"Just do it, or else your brother is dead." John had finally spotted his sons in the dim light of the hallway. Approaching his sons, he questioned, "Did you get any response?"

Sam looked up at his father's approach, the relief evident on his face as he shook his head to his father's query. Though his relief turned to brief confusion as his Father thrust a shotgun into his hands, before registering that his father wanted him to look out for the creature they had been hunting.

John took over the role of administering the CPR, and then asked the question that had been racing through his head for the last minute, "What happened?"

Sam moved away to give John access to Dean, but he kneeled nearby, not taking his eyes off of his brother. "He was just stood there and then he started having trouble breathing, but…"

"Before that?" Something bad had obviously happened that he was not aware of for his son to be in this condition.

"Well, the creature earlier…" Sam started, not eager to finish the thought.

John tilted back Dean's head to administer a breath before returning to the compressions and the questioning. "The creature what?" John pressed his youngest; what exactly had he missed earlier?

"It threw him into the mantle and…" Sam looked down at his brother, not wanting to finish the comment, an almost guilty expression on his face.

"And?" John's temper was growing short in the midst of the crisis.

"And I thought I heard something break." Sam looked up at his father; tears in his eyes at the implication of the admission, before looking back to his brother.

"Why didn't he say anything when I came in?" John questioned half to himself, half to the unresponsive son before him.

The comment made Sam's head shoot up, a glare gracing his features as he rebuked, "Maybe because you started into him about how careless he was."

"Does not mean he should not tell me if he was injured…" John stated, looking up at his son, ignoring the angry stare that was directed at him as he continued. "Or you for that matter, if you thought something were wrong." He almost felt guilty at the devastated look that swept his youngest' face and did not realise he had been distracted from his cause.

Despite the verbal punch from his father's words, Sam realised that his father had made a more grievous mistake in that he was no longer trying to resuscitate Dean, causing Sam to cry out. "Dad, Dean!"

"Dammit!" John admonished himself, unable to believe he had become distracted at such a critical time, unable to believe the situation in general. His son was not going to die.

John quickly administered a breath, before restarting compressions, more determined then before. "Come on Dean, breath."

"Dad, I don't think…" Watching his father working on his brother, who was still bringing up blood with every pump on the chest, Sam could slowly feel the cold realisation start to settle at the bottom of his stomach.

"No!" John replied, the comment directed to his youngest, his eldest and anything that was willing to listen. "Dean, you come back, that is an order." John had heard the tone of resignation in his youngest, but he was not about to give up.

"Dad…There's too much blood." Sam consoled, trying to stop his father's fruitless endeavour, yet at the same time hoping that his father would somehow be able to prove him wrong and make everything alright again.

"Sam?" John looked to his youngest, looking for an explanation as to his interruption.

"Dad please…Don't make it worse." Sam pleaded before looking down at his older brother, lying ashen and cold on the floor with a line of blood slowly congealing around his mouth.

"How can it be worse?" John asked dejectedly, stopping his attempts at resuscitation.

"Dad?" Sam was starting to shake from the initial stages of shock, the weight of the situation starting to set in.

"All I had to do was ask the question." John directed the question no one in particular, before standing up and moving to collect his weapon from Sam.

"Dad…What are we going to do?" Sam queried, shakily rising to his feet, holding out the shotgun and ready to follow his father.

"We…we're going to kill this thing…then…then we'll go home son." John replied, taking the gun before starting to move down the hallway, away from his two sons and towards the staircase.

"Dad…Dad, wait up." Sam called after his father, casting a look at his brother before running to catch up with his father.

"I screwed this up, I screwed it all up." John mumbled; everything but the burning need to kill the creature now purged from his mind.

Sam had nearly caught up with his father when he heard his father mumble. Sam had seen his father many things, but lost was never one of them.

Sam stopped in his tracks, no longer able to keep up with the turn of events around him. "Dad what are you…" The question was cut off.

There was no sound, no flash of light, nothing to indicate that John was no longer walking down a corridor and away from his sons. Just one minute his mind was filled with despair, confusion and the overriding need to find the creature; the next he was stood in a different corridor in silence. It was a momentary glitch in his task, before he continued walking down the corridor, searching for the creature and wondering where his boys were.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: Well between losing the internet and my computer crashing and burning, I'm kind of wondering if fate is trying to tell me something about this story…I say screw fate.

No Beta, so I take responsibility for all stuff ups grammatical and logical.

**Chapter 1**

John stood alone in the corridor, suddenly confused as to why the silent corridor should be a bad thing and why he had stopped walking. He quickly scanned the area, wondering if perhaps the thing he was hunting was nearby, but only the empty dark hallway stared back at him.

The gunshot from down the hall quickly focussed his thoughts, causing him to move down the corridor briskly, weary of what he may find in the room the gunshot had emanated from. His thoughts now hovering between finally being able to catch this thing and that his boys were in trouble.

John busted through the door leading to the room where the shot had originated. He saw his eldest son half laying on the floor and his youngest stood over him.

Lifting his gun into position, John cased the room, while still trying to keep an eye on his boys, "Where is it?" The question was blunt and demanding.

"It got away." Dean gasped from his position on the floor.

"Did you hit it?" John questioned, doing a final check of the room.

"No sir…it was too fast." Dean replied wearily his head dropping slightly at his father's accusing stare..

"No? I trained you for fast" John commented, his military mind coming to the fore.

"Sorry sir." Dean replied in like, while trying to sit upright.

"What are you doing on the floor? How are you supposed to protect yourself and Sam when you have no weapon and are on the floor Dean?" His disappointed at missing the creature and worry for his sons coming across as anger towards his eldest son.

"Sorry sir." Dean replied again, desperately trying to regain his composure and a vertical position in front of his father.

"Dad…" Sam's comment was stopped by the look his father directed at him, causing him to restart his comment. "Sir it threw him into the wall, he didn't have much choice in the matter."

"Regardless Sam, you let your guard down and people get hurt…and if you are going to discharge your weapon, make it count." John threw the last comment in the direction of his eldest before moving off to secure the entrances to the room.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam whispered as he crouched down next to his prone brother.

"Fine Sammy." Dean ground out, he was not feeling much pain but any movement was still making him wince. "Stop gawking and give me a hand up."

"Are you sure you should be standing up? Maybe you should sit for a while." Sam queried, hesitantly putting out a hand to assist his brother.

"I'm no use down here, help me up would you and stop looking at me like that." Dean replied, his comments a response to his father's grilling a few minutes before.

"But I heard…when you hit the wall." Sam whispered, the worry clear in his tone, he was sure his brother was more hurt then he was letting on.

"Later Sammy, Dad looks ready to move." Dean gestured towards their father, who was moving towards them, his intent clear.

John had only been partially listening to his sons in the background as he searched for traces of the creature they were tracking. He moved towards them ready to give the order to move out, when he was struck with a memory of an emotion…Dean injured, he shouldn't go…No longer moving.

"No!" John commanded.

"No?" Sam asked dumbfounded, wondering if his father had suddenly developed a bad sense of humour.

"You stay." John pointed at his eldest still on the floor leant against the mantle he had struck earlier. "Sam and I will deal with this."

"We will?" Sam asked again wondering what his father was playing at.

Ignoring the question, John turned to his youngest, "Sam get the gun and give it to your brother." He indicated the shotgun a few metres from them that Dean had evidently dropped earlier.

Dean was getting nervous and was frantically trying to stand up before his father could follow through on this new plan, "Dad you need back up, Sam needs back up, this thing is dangerous."

"I said sit." John directed, turning on his eldest, stopping the boy's upward movement.

"You need me." Dean tried to convince his father but the look on his face indicated more pleading then convincing.

"You're injured; you're no good to us…" John stopped as he realised what he was saying, but did not correct the comment even though the dejected look on one son's face and the skunk eye from the other made him consider correcting it.

"Yes Sir." Dean answered neutrally.

"Sam! Gun." John demanded as he gestured towards the shotgun in his youngest' hands.

Sam handed the shotgun over to his father, all the while staring at his father with a look of loathing that only a teenager could muster, "I don't think we should leave Dean alone Dad."

"I do not care what you think Sam; just get ready to move out." John directed as he checked the gun and put a couple of rounds in before handing it to Dean, "You do not move."

"Understood Sir." Dean replied, any of his earlier apprehension seemingly gone.

Sam growled under his breath before following his father out of the room, giving one final look towards his brother that had started to slump as soon as his father was no longer watching him.

* * *

John and Sam were moving around on the second floor of the old mansion, cautiously checking each room and trying to find any evidence of the creature. 

Sam peered down the dark hallway, standing as back up for his father as he checked another room. Trying to remain silent was a task, given the debilitated state of the house, the floor groaned with nearly every step and all the doors creaked when they were opened. The only benefit Sam could see was that it was unlikely the creature would be able to sneak up on them.

Given the outcome of the last run in a thought occurred to Sam, which he quickly voiced, "Dad what are we going to do when this thing turns up?"

"You shoot it son." John replied austerely, not deterred from his scan of the room in front of him and oblivious to the roll of eyes behind him.

"What if the bullets don't work? And this thing was fast Dad, real fast." Sam responded, undeterred by his father's attitude and potential anger.

"Not faster then a bullet Sam." John commented, turning to his son as he shut the door of the room behind him; ten down, about another thirty to go. "You see it, you shoot it, it dies, we get to go home."

"But what if it doesn't die Dad, we don't even know what this thing is; let alone how to actually kill it." Sam was fully aware his father had reservations about the hunt and now that Dean was not there to interfere, he saw it as a good opportunity to have his say unimpeded…consequences be damned.

"Sam…" John's voice rose to a shout, the threat of an argument imminent, but it was cut short by a loud creaking from down the hall.

His son's goading quickly forgotten, John lifted his gun and searched the shadows for any sign of their prey. A shift of light and a shadow definitely moved. John ran down the hallway, gun at the ready. He shouted an order over his shoulder as he moved, "Sam heads up and stay behind me."

"I don't see it Dad." Sam called after his father, his gun now at the ready as he ran after him.

"Just follow my lead." John called back trying to see another shift of light in the gloomy hallway.

Losing sight of the creature, John started to pull up, silently cursing at how the thing had disappeared into the gloom. It had not gone through any doors, and the staircase was at the end of the hall.

"Dad?"

John held up his hand to silence his son as he strained to hear any sign of the creature, there was creak near the staircase drawing his attention and by default Sam's.

* * *

Sam stood watching his father's movements and had his gun at the ready in case the thing appeared; his concentration was drawn by a slight scratching sound behind him. He really started to wish Dean was there with them as he turned quickly to cover their backs in case the creature had somehow managed to double back on them. There was nothing in the hall in front of him, only the same gloomy atmosphere that faced his father behind him. 

Sam let out a breath of relief, ready to turn back around when an unrecognisable sound came from above him. Before he could look up, the face of the creature dropped into his view, with its teeth barred, causing Sam to inadvertently yell out in surprise. Instinct took over as he lifted his gun and tried to shoot the thing and while he got a shot off the thing moved along the ceiling, dodging the bullet before swiping out at Sam with its talon like claws, catching Sam in the chest and causing him to now yell out in pain. As he collapsed to the floor Sam heard his father fire a few rounds at the creature as it skittered off along the ceiling.

* * *

It had all happened within seconds, one second John was looking down the hall, straining so hard to hear another groan or creak that he had missed any other sounds, the next his son shouted out in surprise, causing John to spin straight away just in time to see his son fire off a shot. 

John could now see the creature defying gravity as it hung from the ceiling in front of his son and moving so fast to avoid the bullet. As he saw it lift its taloned hand towards his son, John tried to fire at it, but Sam blocked his shot, and it all happened so fast he did not have time to move to adjust his shot, before his son cried out and dropped to the floor.

Seeing his opportunity John fired at the thing as it ran off along the ceiling, he wanted to follow it, wanted to take it down, but looking at his injured son and knowing he had another son injured, John realised his hunt was over for the night.

* * *

"Sam, let me look." John remarked as he knelt down next to his son, surprisingly calm given the adrenalin coursing through his veins.

"Sorry Sir, I should have…" Sam started, wincing as his father lifted his bloodied shirt causing it catch on the cuts below.

"Don't, you did the best you could. This looks deep, we'll bandage it when we get to the car and then we'll stitch it when we get back to the hotel."

"Antibiotics too?" Sam questioned, the pain making his eyes shine bright and oh so young.

"Looks like…" John could not help but smile, knowing how much his son hated the medication. As much as Sam tested his patience and pushed his temper, he never wanted to see his boy hurt, either of them.

"Come on lets go get your brother and get out of here." John grabbed both their weapons and helped his son stand and supported his weight when he nearly went down again.

"What about that thing." Sam queried looking down the corridor in the direction the creature had moved off, hoping it had not gone to Dean.

"Looks like it will have to wait. I can't carry you, your brother and myself out of here. Plus I think we need more info on this thing, conventional weapons don't seem to be working."

That was the closest Sam would ever get to an 'I was wrong you were right' from his father. If not for the pain in his chest from his injuries and the worry for his brother, Sam may have hastened an 'I told you so'

They moved slowly down the corridor towards the stairs and down to the level below, overly alert for any signs of the creature, in front, below, behind and above.

As they moved from the stairs they could see Dean just ahead, propped up against the wall, the shotgun loose in his grasp.

"Dean, I thought I told you not to move." John commented as they approached him.

Not receiving any response, they hastened their pace, the injured Sam pulling ahead of his father's assisting grasp. "Dean?..." Sam called out before moving close enough to realise why his brother was not answering. "Oh god Dean."

Helping his youngest to the ground and handing him the weapons, John quickly moved to his eldest, taking his vitals. "Dammit, he's not breathing…and no pulse."

Pulling Dean away from the wall, he lay him flat on the floor before starting CPR, but he held up after the first compression as blood came up through Dean's mouth.

"Where's the blood coming from?" Sam asked his focus not on watching out for any impending danger.

Ignoring the blood, John continued on with the CPR, answering his son's question as he went. "He must have punctured something earlier…Dammit Dean, I thought I told you not to move."

A few minutes and no change prompted Sam to query his father, hoping for some change he had not seen, "Dad?"

"Come on, breath." John shouted at his son, tears threatening in his eyes, "We'll get you to the hospital and you'll be chatting up the nurses in no time."

"Dad" This time a statement as Sam's stomach started rise and the room started to spin.

"Not again…"John whispered, not sure where the thought had come from.

"Dad, I don't feel so well." The pain from his injury and the shock from the scene in front of him conspired to make the room spin before him and he slumped the rest of the way to the floor unconscious.

"Sam?" John looked up from his now pointless task, unsure what to do. This was a living nightmare.

"Sam!" John moved towards his youngest not sure what else to do, but he never made his destination as the hallway dissolved into nothing only to reappear…

…TBC


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: To avoid the story dragging on I have actually combined a couple of chapters here, though I am not sure if this has had the effect of 'jarring' the story. I appreciate any comments on this.

P.S no beta so apologies for any stupid mistakes.

**Chapter 2**

John was stood in the gloomy hallway, monitoring the shadows for any signs of movement. His normally unbreakable concentration was missing, as his focus was torn between tracking the creature he and his boys were there to hunt and trying to figure out why the hallway was giving him a bad sense of déjà vu. His contemplation was cut short by a gun shot and a single thought came to mind as though it had been there the whole time he was standing in the corridor. "Sam!"

John ran down the hallway, busting through the door to the room where the shot had emanated from, John had his gun at the ready as he searched the room for the creature and his sons. Upon seeing his youngest, John let out a sigh of relief for something he did not know why. "Sam, are you okay?"

Still recovering from the shock of the creature's attack, Sam was taken aback by his father busting through one of the room's doors. He was further confused by his father's question, when Dean was clearly the injured party, slumped against the wall and sitting on the floor.

"Dad, Dean needs help." Sam replied hastily, hoping his father would focus on the actual problem while he still appeared off guard.

Dean shot his brother a look of annoyance, "I'm fine Sammy, just help me up."

"What happened?" John asked, still searching the room for any signs of the creature; it had not left via the hallway.

Dean's reply was preceded by a sigh of what could have been resignation, "It attacked sir, I tried to shoot it…" Dean left the comment unfinished, knowing his father was more then willing to finish the thought.

"But you missed." It was not a question, merely a statement of the fact, there was no creature lying dead on the floor; a statement that was missing John's usual ire in a situation like this.

Dean and Sam stood waiting for their father to go into military lecture mode, but when it did not happen; Dean assumed his father was waiting for something more from him. "Sorry Sir, it was too fast."

John's usual zest for laying down the law was replaced with a half hearted comment directed in the general direction of his eldest. "You were trained for that."

"Yes Sir." Dean replied, watching his dad carefully; his father was not his usual self and was not looking directly at Dean as he spoke, which generally implied that he was beyond angry.

Rather then pressing with the issue, John queried them both, "Did you see where it went, how it got out?"

'No Sir, it just sort of disappeared." Sam answered for the both of them; Dean was trying unsuccessfully to sit up straight and would probably attempt to stand up any second now.

John's attention was drawn to his youngest, his feelings from earlier in the hallway reigniting, "Sam are you hurt?"

"No Sir…" Sam looked at his father warily, fully aware of his injured brother below him that their father seemed to be oblivious too. "Are you okay Dad?"

John seemed to smile slightly at that, "I'm fine Sam, but the sooner we get out of here the better."

Taking the comment as a hint, Dean turned to his brother, not happy about having to ask for help, but knowing he needed it, "Sam, help me up."

Dean's comment attracted John's attention that had been missing previously, "No!" John commanded; no room for argument.

The comment was the first thing Sam could agree on with father for the whole of this hunt. "You're injured Dean."

Dean nearly rolled his eyes at his little brother, but he was acutely aware that his father was now watching him. "I'm fine, it only glanced me Sam."

"What about the mantle?" Sam asked, his features starting to show a stubbornness that matched their father's.

"Dean you're injured." John remarked moving to stand next to his sons, making Dean feel at a disadvantage.

"I'm still good to fight." Dean assured, but the grimace that followed the statement betrayed him.

"No you are not. Stay here, Sam and I will deal with it." John commanded, turning away and heading towards the door. He was not sure why he was adamant, but he was.

"I can help Dad, it's dangerous…" Dean stopped his argument when his Dad turned back towards him.

"No…" John turned back to look at his two sons, his mouth running without his brains correspondence. "You can't stay on your own. Sam, help your brother." John commanded heading back towards the door.

"I don't need help." Dean snapped at his brother; his injuries, his brothers pandering and his father's erratic behaviour getting to his nerves.

"That was an order Dean, for both of you." John snapped at his two sons, in no mood for any argument from either of them.

"Yes Sir." Both Sam and Dean replied, though Dean's was followed by a slight gasp.

Turning around again, John looked closely at his eldest son, actually looking at his condition this time. His son looked tired, pale and the slight glaze to his eyes indicating that his body was reacting to an injury.

"Where did you get hit?" John asked moving back towards his sons

"It got me in the chest." Dean answered cautiously, suspicious of his father's mood swings.

"Not the creature, the mantle?" John queried, remembering his youngest son's comment earlier.

Dean considered fobbing of the enquiry, but decided against it, as he knew Sam would only rat him out anyway. "…in the left side, lower back."

John moved to his son and leant him forward carefully, lifting up his shirt, eliciting a gasp from Sam.

"Dean that is serious, surely the pain should be telling you not to move."

"I…I'm not really feeling anything, the whole side is numb."

"It's probably the adrenalin, maybe some bruised nerves."

* * *

John and Sam supported Dean as they walked through the corridors, despite the latter's numerous protests to the need for the assistance. 

"Dad, its not here, can we just leave and come back for it later." Sam grumbled to his father; his concern for his brother outweighing his patience to play nice with his father.

"It will be gone later Sam." John replied in a low rumble, his patience not far behind that of his youngest.

"Can we not argue while I am stood in the middle." Dean remarked exasperated at the two either side of him, that both acted like 12 year olds when they got started.

"If you had not got yourself injured you would not need to be in the middle." John retorted, facing forward and still internally grousing about both of his sons' attitudes.

As much as Dean wanted to tell his Father to go screw himself, he bit his tongue and just continued on his way.

A movement up ahead caught his father's vision, causing him to drop his supporting arm from Dean. "You two stay here; don't move unless I tell you to."

Dean went to say something but was quickly cut off, "I said stay here, no arguments." John lifted his gun and started to stalk down the hallway in the direction of where he had seen the creature.

Sam moved ahead of Dean slightly, indicating he wanted point, leaving Dean to wonder where all the concern for him moving on his own had gone. Dean lifted his own gun, standing back to back with his brother.

A scratching from above made Dean ignore Sam's focus and look upward, gun following his gaze. "Spiderman, Spiderman, does the things a Spider can." Dean whispered to himself, but loud enough for Sam to hear and turn to see what his brother was doing.

"Dean. What?"

Satisfied that nothing was on the ceiling Dean turned to his younger brother, a smirk forming on his face and a sarcastic comment brewing, both which were cut short by the creature dropping in between the two brothers, causing them both to yelp in surprise.

Both brothers were aware enough to not fire at the creature with the other stood opposite them, but Sam was unable to move quickly enough before the thing swiped out at him. The impact from the swipe caught Sam in the chest, causing him to fly backwards into a nearby door frame. Sam's head slammed on the corner of the door frame and he dropped to the ground unconscious.

Seeing his brother injured and now out of the line of fire, Dean lifted his gun and tried to shoot the thing, but it dodged all the bullets at close range before swiping out at Dean with its taloned hand. Dean stumbled back, able to avoid the swipe but landing on his arse leaving him at a disadvantage as the creature dropped from the ceiling and started to stalk towards its injured prey. Any retaliation by the creature was cut short by a volley of shots, which came at the creature from down the hallway as John ran back towards his sons, cursing the creature and his own stupidity the whole way.

"Dad…Is he okay?" Dean asked from his position on the floor as his father moved towards Sam and started to check his vitals.

"He's breathing fine, his pulse is a little racy, but I think he's okay." John replied, lifting up Sam's head to inspect the damage.

"He's not waking up." Dean stated, his voice starting to waver.

"It's okay he just hit his head, doesn't look like it was too hard though, it barely broke the skin." John ignored the sound in his eldest son's voice, wanting to give his son a moment, instead focusing on trying to rouse Sam.

"I'm sorry Dad, I screwed up again…" Dean's voice was continuing to waver.

"What?" John looked up at Dean instantly, suspecting shock was starting to take effect in his son

"I was supposed to be looking after him, that's my job, that's all I had to do. Then I got myself injured because I was too slow and then I couldn't help him. It's just like you say that I can't do anything if I'm injured…And now I think I'm crying, that's really useful" Dean all but sobbed at his father, before wiping a sleeve across his nose and feeling all of about ten years old.

John refrained from laughing at his usually stoic son, it should not be funny but his son looked so…cute.

His tone was serious though when he commented to Dean, "Dean, you're going into shock, you need to breathe slowly and relax. Your brother is fine; he will be waking up any second now."

"No thanks to me." Dean mumbled head down and looking morosely at his brother.

"Dean, I'm not interested in your self pity." John retorted, he needed Dean focussed if they were to get out of there with an unconscious Sam

"Sorry sir." Dean replied, taking a big breath and trying to regulate his breathing and heartbeat.

John hung his head, slightly dismayed that his fathering techniques were actually getting worse as the night wore on. "No, I'm sorry Dean you're injured and I'm shouting at you."

Clearly not registering his father's protests about self pity, Dean sleepily mumbled, "I can't do anything right, I'm always getting Sam injured and making you angry…"

John watched in horror as his eldest son's eyes started to droop and his head started to fall forward, he was only thankful that Dean was already seated. "Dean?"

"I…" Dean started before loosing consciousness.

John vaulted over his youngest, moving to support Dean before his lax body slumped forward and he went face first into the ground.

"Dean, no stay awake. Come on!" John slapped his son's face for good measure but got zero response.

"Dad?" Sam lifted his head, waking from the blackness to hear his father shouting at Dean.

John looked back over to his youngest, who was sitting up and grabbing his head in pain.

"Sam thank god. We have to get to the car." John stated, lifting up Dean like he weighed nothing

"Dean?" Sam asked looking wide eyed at his unconscious and unresponsive brother.

"He's just unconscious, but he needs to get to the hospital and I can't carry you both." John was trying to sound reassuring and sympathetic, but his worry over Dean's condition meant his comment sounded more harried and critical of Sam

"I can walk." Sam replied, standing quickly, head ache be damned.

"Good. Good son." John reassured unable to keep the worry from his voice.

* * *

"You're awake; you had Dad worried…you had me worried." Sam commented, looking down at his brother who was sprawled across him and the back seat of the Impala. 

Dean smiled up at his brother, glad to see him awake and alert, but the pain in his chest turning it into more of a grimace. He went for words instead to reassure his brother, "You know you totally screamed like a girl when that thing dropped down."

Sam scoffed at his brother's bravado, when he knew that Dean screamed just as much as he had, "Yeah and what was that sound that came from you, it definitely was not a manly bellow."

"Course it was, you just don't know what a manly bellow sounds like, as soon…" Dean was cut short as a pain swept through his chest, causing him to gasp.

"How're you feeling son?" John asked from the driver's seat, looking in the rear view mirror at both of his sons.

The pain temporarily subsided, "Did you get it?" Dean queried, hoping at least something good had come from the night.

"We'll go back later." John replied, his care factor for the hunt going south when he was faced with two unconscious, injured sons.

"Sorry Sir." Dean remarked quietly.

John's response was automatic, "Don't be sorry son, you just stay awake till we get to the hospital."

John looked in mirror again, worried by the faint rasping sounds coming from Dean; his worry was reflected in Sam's eyes as he looked to his father for reassurance.

"Sorry sir…" Dean slumped in Sam's lap again, his body now truly lifeless.

"Dean…Dean!" Sam screamed at his brother, shaking him, trying to get a response.

"Dean! No please not again." John moaned closing his eyes and missing the sudden change of scenery that presented him with a corridor when he again opened his eyes.

TBC – One chapter and one epilogue to go…which should hopefully be sooner rather then later, I have had my quota of dodgy internet problems, fried motherboards and evil unpaid overtime for the year…Crap it's a new year.


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: You will notice the tone change in this chapter is quite stark when compared to the previous chapter; this is the effect from the combining of chapters. It was unavoidable unfortunately as there is a fine line between boring and subtle integration of context.

**Chapter 3**

John was stood in the corridor; his brain was telling him he had arrived there after walking from the floor below and that he was hunting a creature, but his instincts were telling him something completely different. His head was thumping to a beat that took him mere seconds to decipher.

"Dean!" John shouted out, an unerring urge telling him he needed to find his son…both of his sons.

Gun slung low by his side, John ran through the corridor, letting his instincts and that unerring knowledge guide him. The gun shot from the door just in front of him confirming all of his instincts.

John made it through the door in time to see Dean thrown into a mantle, the impact causing John to grimace in sympathy. John's hunter instincts quickly took control again and he lifted his gun taking aim at the creature that was still in the room, an escape route now blocked.

John fired two shots, both missed as the faceless, featureless creature dodged both bullets before jumping to the ceiling and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

John looked back over to his sons, looking over Sam to see if he were hurt, then looking to Dean you looked to be in some pain, but it seemed to pass quickly.

Dean saw his father's gaze fixed on him, figuring he was better off beating his father to the accusations of failure. "Sorry Dad, I should have hit it, it was right in front of me."

John moved towards his eldest son concerned about what injuries he could have suffered and concerned by the fact that Dean had made no attempt to stand. "It was fast Dean; I think it would have been a fluke if you had of hit it."

Dean looked up to his father who was now stood in front of him, confused as to why his father was condoning his failure, "You trained us for fast"

Getting annoyed at his sons persistence, John gruffly replied, "And I just missed it, so don't go berating yourself."

Dean was trying to stand up and in the process simply answered, "Sorry…"

Putting a hand on Dean's shoulder to restrain him, John was quick to object, "Stop saying that and stop moving. You hit that mantle hard and awkward; you could have done some serious injuries."

"Dad?" The questioning call was from Sam, who had quietly moved up next to his brother while Dean and their dad were talking. That one word was filled with fear, worry and hope that John would know what to do for Dean. Sam was sure he had heard something break when Dean had hit the mantle piece.

John had leant Dean forward and was inspecting his injuries, but he halted the inspection to stop and give a reassuring smile to his youngest son, "Its okay Sam, we'll get him to the hospital and he will be fine."

"What?" The response from Dean to the suggestion was close to indignant and he started to pull away from his father's hold. "No, we have got to take this thing out. You can patch me up at the hotel later."

Not happy about being given orders from his son, John's first response was to glare at his son before explaining. "You have some serious bruising on your lower back Dean and what feels like a lump starting, which could mean you are bleeding internally. You need to be in a hospital and the sooner the better."

John was glad to see Sam nodding his head in agreement with his comments, something that did not happen very often anymore.

"I don't feel anything." Dean remarked with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

John put two fingers to Dean's neck, trying to get a baseline of his pulse as he explained, "You're already starting to go into shock and you probably bruised the nerves. You may not feel it, but you definitely look it."

Again Sam nodded before adding his own contribution to the conversation, "Yeah you're looking a little pale…"At Dean's glare he simply added, "I'm just saying."

John placed his hands under Dean's armpits, and nodded to Dean's waist as he looked to Sam for assistance, "Help me get him up, carefully." The protests from Dean on the matter were quickly silenced with a glare from both John and Sam.

They got Dean into a standing position easily and he looked better then John was expecting, he was able to stand on his own and did not appear to be in too much pain. In the back of his mind however John had a feeling of apprehension and fear that this was an illusion.

"Dad…" Dean went to ask a question or make a statement but it never quite made it too fruition.

Looking to reassure both of his son's, John looked to Dean and simply stated, "It's fine Dean, we'll deal with this thing later, the most important thing is to get you to the hospital."

Making one last attempt at resurrecting the hunt, Dean protested, "But it will get away…and the questions"

"I don't care." John's answer was firm and unyielding.

* * *

The three Winchesters walked through the corridor towards the stairs, Dean between them, his initial protests at the treatment curtailed by John's stern words and Sam's determined look.

The aura in the house had changed; it felt at peace and relaxed. The tension and adrenalin that had been driving the hunt earlier had disappeared and John knew within his heart that this the way out.

As the hunters descended the final flight of stairs and reached the bottom, John could see a shadow moving near one of the doors leading to a downstairs room.

John could see the shape and knew instantly it was the creature they had been hunting. His grip on his gun tightened but while the creature made no move for him or his sons, he was not eager to engage it or give it any reason to attack. He watched the creature carefully as they moved towards the front door and even though he had seen no eyes on the creature, he knew it was watching them.

Leaving Sam to assist Dean the last few feet, John stopped and turned around guarding his boys as they left the abandoned mansion. The creature had not moved; it simply stood in the shadows watching. Convinced it was not going to follow and vowing to himself that this hunt was far from over, John turned quickly and left the house. He ran after his boys and overtaking them to open the back door to let them in, all the while trying to determine the fastest route to the nearest hospital.

* * *

Sam was sat in the back seat of the Impala with his brother sprawled across his lap and the back seat. Dean's skin colour was starting to lighten and he was making an occasional gasping sound, which was the only indication to Sam that his brother was feeling pain. Sam was alternating between holding on to his brother and clasping his own hands at his sides.

Seeing his father's furtive glances in the rear view mirror was encouraging in that Sam knew his father was paying attention to them and only them for once.

Hearing a sigh come from his brother Sam instantly looked down worried, but was faced with a contemplative face rather then a pained one.

"Hey Dean, what's wrong." Sam asked, trying to draw Dean's attention.

Dean seemed to ponder the answer, before the adrenalin and circumstance overcame his usual reluctance to talk, "I must have done something wrong."

"What?" Sam started, confused.

Dean lifted himself slightly to comment in a conspiring and concerned whisper "Dad's acting weird."

Sam could not help but laugh at his brother's concern "I think that's concern Dean."

"Did you check if he was possessed?" The question was serious and should have been expected, but it still took Sam by surprise.

"Dean!" Sam remarked the tone and volume causing his father to take his eyes off of the road and turn around to look at his sons.

"Is he okay?" John queried urgently.

Sam's wide eyed look at the road now behind John, caused John to quickly turn back around to the road, "Yeah Dad, just delirious." Sam replied chuckling slightly.

"He's hallucinating." John asked, concern still strongly lacing his tone even though Sam did not seem concerned.

"No sir, just being stupid." Sam commented, noting they had reached the centre of the town they had been staying in the last few days.

Sighing in annoyance that even now, one of his sons could not help but insult the other, John simply remarked, "Don't call your brother stupid."

"Sorry Dean." Sam looked down as his brother, a smirk still gracing his face.

Not wanting to be out done Dean replied, "Don't sweat it dork." But the humour of the situation was quickly drained away when the comment was followed by a groan.

Any humour on Sam's features was gone and he sat up a little straighter, ready to get his father's attention in an instant if needed. "Are you feeling okay?"

Dean put his arm over his chest on instinct, "Hurts."

Sam's head whipped quickly towards the front seat, "Dad…"

Having heard Dean's comment, John tried to coax a bit more speed from the Impala, "We'll be there any minute."

Sam held on to his brother tighter, getting eye contact before reassuring, "Dean, just a few more minutes."

**TBC…With an epilogue….**


	5. epilogue

Author's note: Sorry about the delay, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but I lost the file in my hard drive...then found it, along with some other weird crap I did not even know was there

Not sure about how this end fits with the story. The dialogue and concept for this story was written a year ago in a couple of hours while I was stuck at work for the weekend. The story was only ever supposed to be filler while I tried to get my two longer SPN stories off the ground. As a consequence this thing was not really well thought out, I hope it does not disappoint too much.

**Epilogue**

John walked down the corridor, feeling slightly naked without his shotgun and the bright lights and white walls assailing his senses. His emotions were still swirling from the events of the day and as he approached the wall mounted public phones, he felt the urge to lean his head against wall and just make it all go away.

John stopped in front of the public phones, looking at them in distaste. He knew he needed to make the call but he was hesitating and he was not sure if he was resenting his hesitation or the fact that he needed to make the call.

John picked up the hand piece, put the money in the phone and dialled the number all the while wondering if he was more worried that the person on the other end was going to think him crazy, or the fact that he was sure to get reamed over going after the creature in the first place.

The phone did not even get a chance to ring twice before it was picked up and a gruff voice shouted down the phone, "That had better be you John."

Smiling at the concern in the voice, "Bobby..." Anything he was going to say however was quickly cut off.

"Damn John, I've been trying to call you for the last few days…you haven't been back to the hotel and your phone has been out of range." The other man sounded angry, frustrated but most of all there was fear there. "Where the hell are you?"

John managed to hold his voice steady s he quietly replied, "I'm at the hospital Bobby."

There was a sigh over the line before Bobby's grizzly annoyed voice stated, "You went after it didn't you, you damn fool. Well I hope you did not break your leg again, cos I ain't putting up with your cranky arse for six weeks again."

It was John's turn to sigh this time, "It was Dean."

The phone was momentarily silent as Bobby did not answer straight away, clearly trying to gauge the situation on what he had heard from John so far, trying to decipher the best response. "Is he okay?"

Glad that Bobby had not started in on him straight away, John answered the question, his voice only faltering slightly. The situation had been too close, far too close. "He's doing better…given the condition he arrived in, it's not hard really."

"John?" Bobby's voice was calm and reassuring, wanting answers but knowing that John was more inclined to pass them on in his own time.

"He busted up the right hand side of his rib cage, punctured his liver and was damn lucky with his lung and arteries. He was so banged up he could not even feel it at first."

"How did you know he was injured?" Bobby queried, almost knowing the answer was not going to be a good one.

The question was simple enough; the answer was not so, "I didn't…"

Knowing to give the other man a chance to recollect himself, Bobby started on the details he had found in his research that he had been trying to contact John about.

"John, I think I found out what this thing is. It's old, real old, so old I still couldn't find an actual name for it, but I did find an Ancient Greek reference, loosely translated as a hound of Kronos. I would have doubted my translation but given the description of its abilities it seems right, not sure I believe this info as absolute though."

Bobby took a moment, giving the other man a chance to assimilate the details before continuing. "This thing, it's claimed to have some neat abilities that would throw the laws of Physics out the window…well most the things we deal with defy science, but this takes the cake."

John's addition to the conversation was a numb statement, "It can affect time."

Bobby sighed again, all his fears confirmed, "Yeah John, the claims are, it can affect time and the fact that you have been incommunicado for days and knew that, scares the shit out of me."

"You are saying claims Bobby; what's the truth here?" John asked as he leant against the wall next to the phone, his exhaustion starting to win out.

"My best guess...it affects your mind, makes you feel as though time is repeating but it's all in your head. It would explain why you have only lost a day but the rest of the world continued on. If it was truly effecting time, only a day would have passed and I would not be pissed off at you. I would say the misperception in the accounts I found were because at the time of their scripting, people were more prone to considering the least simple of answers."

John nodded at Bobby's words, but something did not add up, "What about the injuries Bobby? It makes no sense."

Bobby gave a soft harrumph of acknowledgment to the question, "I don't know John; you are going to have to explain what happened."

John's memory was still trying to assimilate the events of what for him had felt like only a day, but had in fact been more. He was now starting to get glimpses of other events, the other days that had become part of a seemingly endless loop. He could not exactly describe the phenomena to Bobby, it was too confusing and if he focused on it too hard, he would surely go crazy. He at least now knew why all those people that had come back were considered crazy...maybe they were.

John tried to explain as best he could, "I didn't notice it at first, just a weird déjà vu feeling and it wasn't till after a while that I would start to get flashes and know something was seriously wrong."

John could hear shuffling in the background and then the scratching of what could only be pen on paper; Bobby was planning on recording the info just as John would in his own diary.

Bobby's next question was expected, "How many times John?"

John touched on his memories, hoping he may be able to discern some details but it was still all too confusing, "I don't know Bobby, I...I have no idea how many times I had to watch my sons get injured or die."

"John…" Hearing the despair starting to enter his friend's voice, Bobby tried to distract him with more questions, but he did not have much success.

"I was so damn busy telling them off and getting angry at Dean for putting Sam at risk that I didn't realise I was doing the same thing." John continued on before falling silent.

Bobby quietly and steadily questioned John, "John, how much do you remember of the modern accounts on this thing?"

John thought about it momentarily, trying to remember the research he had done only a couple of days before, "People start disappearing from an area over a period of a couple of weeks, most never return and those that do, were usually considered to be crazy. After a few weeks the phenomenon stops and starts up months or years later in a different place...Which means it's probably gone by now."

"Yeah, I dare say..." Bobby replied to John's last comment, before continuing on, "You missed a bit John, the reports on these missing and returned persons, they allude to there being a problem. The people, they were generally doing something that others may frown upon. The sane ones they say about the opportunity to rectify it."

John pulled away from the wall, anger at Bobby's insinuation counteracting his exhaustion and causing him to raise his voice in response. "You are saying that I was targeted? Dean & Sam were injured as a lesson to me?"

"John…" Bobby started, but did not get a chance to say anything else.

"No! That is…" John interrupted angrily, but the anger quickly passed as he started to reflect on the day's events, which leeched his impetuous feelings. "I thought I had lost my son today…I could only save him when I did not engage this thing. I did not fight it and it let us go."

Trying not to get annoyed at the man on the other side of the phone, Bobby went for a change of topic, "How's Dean, John?"

John was exhausted and sorely tempted to just hang up and deal with the implications later, but instead gave Bobby the truth. "Pale, weak…pensive."

Bobby sighed before replying, the Winchester's were their own worst enemy, "He's waiting for you to reprimand him."

"What?" John questioned defensively.

"He's injured John, badly, Sam was put in danger and you had to abandon the hunt…He's waiting for his punishment." Bobby explained, all the while wondering why he had to.

"I would not…." John started, but it was unconvincing, even to his ears.

"Yes you would, you have in the past. John take this for what it is, a learning experience. Most the people that encounter this thing don't get away; I think the missing were stuck in a moment, forever repeating until they finally died. You got out John, so tell Dean and Sam what they did right for a change."

Back to the wanting to hang up stage, John glared at the mouthpiece before replying, "You have no right to tell me how to raise my sons."

Bobby's voice had got gruff again as his anger at the other man's attitude started to seep through into his voice. "You're right, I don't, but from what I can tell this thing only goes after certain people. I think it may have viewed Dean and Sam as victims."

"They are not victims Bobby." John retorted, convinced of that fact.

"Maybe not in the traditional sense John, but it saw something. My suggestion, look at what you do and this time, do the opposite." Getting no immediate response to the comment, Bobby finished off the conversation, "I'll talk with you later. Go back to your boys."

* * *

John stood at the doorway, unseen, watching his two boys talk and occasionally laugh. Sam was sat on his brother's bed trying his best to bring Dean out of the funk that hung over the older teenager.

John knew that the creature's lesson was not just for him to consider his boys above the hunt. He knew that Bobby was wrong and that was not just his pride talking.

While it was obvious that the creature had let them go once he had refrained from hunting it, his instincts were screaming that there was something far more subversive in the creature's efforts, something that only he alone would see and understand.

As he stood there in the harsh light of the hospital corridor listening to the hum of his sons' voices, he was hit with broken images and noises from the numerous rotations and permutations of the hunt, replacing the hum from the here and now. The memories edged him towards the inevitable, 'what could I have done better' and the images presented him with something he had not noticed at first. For every effort that John put in to retract from the hunt, every time he tried, there was always something pulling him back, redirecting him to the hunt and as he looked at the two teenagers on the hospital bed his eyes widened in shock. He had created something that could not help itself but to run into the breach. How could he protect something that had never learned to protect itself? The lesson was not about him, it was for him. In the eyes of the creature he was not the monster, he was Dr Frankenstein.

However John knew something the creature did not, he had done what he did for the sake of his youngest and he would not change the situation, not ever.

Fin.


End file.
